


Upon A Yule Night Cold

by Furorscribiendi



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furorscribiendi/pseuds/Furorscribiendi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year after the Battle of Five Armies, a familiar face turns up at Bilbo Baggins' front door on a snowy night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eaivalefay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eaivalefay/gifts), [lilithiumwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/gifts).



> So I wrote a ficlet in response to [something majes-tea posted](http://cumberrage.tumblr.com/post/68622303756/what-if-bilbo-finds-thorins-shield-on-his-way-back) and it broke my heart and a lot of hearts. I am so sorry, have some shameless happy, fluffy porn. I tried not to plot and probably failed to some degree. I love you all and wish I could promise no more broken hearts… but I might have another Bagginshield fic in the works, so no dice alas. 
> 
> Also, I am the worst at titling. And even worse at tagging, because I'm always sure there's a tag I missed somehow.

This was the first Yule where Bilbo didn’t have anyone over at his smial. Before his adventure, relations would pop round or invite him for a meal or a spot of tea. This year, the invitations had been fewer and Bilbo had sent out declinations. He suspected only his Took relations understood to some degree. When he sent his reply off, some tea and cakes had come back in reply.

Today, he’d woken up and the grief had welled right up, like a wound torn open again. He’d shuffled around the house trying to stuff it back away. But the tears came every so often and he had to pause and take a few minutes. It had been a year and Bilbo knew it would take time to heal from this.

To heal from seeing Thorin lying on a cot, blood soaked bandages showing the grievous injury he was facing. Thorin’s hand had grasped his and those words had come from his mouth. And Bilbo had forgiven him. He could see the haze of goldlust gone, regret and sorrow evident in those blue eyes. It still made Bilbo’s heart clench and he wished there was something he could have done. Call him foolish, but hearing those words from Thorin and seeing just how much he realized his error, Bilbo was sure he’d walk into Mordor itself if Thorin said that was where they were heading.

So he’d spent today in his study, going over maps and writing any old thing that came to mind. It was helpful and calming, even if his tears sometimes splotched the ink where they landed. It was foolish, writing all these things to someone who would never even see them, but Bilbo couldn’t help it.

Every so often he’d glance up from his desk and stare out of the window. Snow had started falling at some point and the afternoon had shifted over to evening and his stomach rumbled a bit. Right, making dinner would be an excellent idea. Had he even really eaten anything today? And it felt a bit nippy. Maybe the fire in the living room had gone a bit low?

It turns out it had and it took him a bit to get it going once more. Then it was off to the kitchen and there was a cut of beef still and some vegetables. He set about making a stew, dicing up vegetables and browning the meat before throwing it all in a pot with some leftover stock. He cracked open a bottle of wine, adding a few splashes before making a seasoning sachet and throwing it in.

A glass of wine was an excellent idea before it hit his empty stomach. He had just reached for a heel end of bread and the small butter crock when a knock came from the front door. Annoyance flickered through him as he resolutely went about buttering the bread and taking bites from it. He certainly didn’t want visitors, thank you very much. The knock came once more and Bilbo still ignored it, reaching for the new bread loaf. He cut a few more slices and started buttering bread once more when the insistent knocking started again.

Only this time it didn’t stop.

Bilbo turned to glare in the direction of the door and next thing he knew his feet were taking him there. He was flummoxed for a moment when he tried to open the door and found the small butter crock still in his hand. He rested it on the ground before he unlocked the door and yanked it open.

“Now see here, if someone doesn’t answer their door it means…”

It was a good thing that he put the butter down. It probably would have dropped from his hand and smashed on the floor. It was freezing cold, snow blustering about everywhere and Thorin Oakenshield was standing on his front step. He was frosted in snow, brows furrowed together and a frankly hesitant expression on his face.

“I saw the kitchen light on,” Thorin paused for a moment. “May I enter?”

Bilbo wasn’t sure where his voice disappeared to, but he nodded and stepped back from the door. Thorin stepped in and closed the door behind him. He radiated cold and his cheeks were flushed red and Bilbo felt his heart thundering in his chest, fit to shake him down to his knees. 

“I meant to be here sooner. But I fear I got turned around.” Thorin pushed his cloak hood back and unshouldered his pack. 

When Bilbo stepped forward, Thorin didn’t move. This felt like some strange dream that he was seeing. Did one hallucinate so strongly that apparitions knocked and entered one’s home? His hand trembled a bit but steadied when he reached for Thorin’s arm and found it to be solid. Cold, wet wool and leather greeted Bilbo's touch and he ran it up along his arm to the beard on Thorin’s face. It was caked in snow, melting in the warmth of Bilbo’s front hall. 

He absently brushed it off, eyes fixed on Thorin’s face. Whatever Thorin saw in Bilbo’s own face made him drop everything. The hesitancy vanished and regret was there along with something that Bilbo hardly dare speak aloud. 

“I –”

It was the only word that Thorin managed to say. It all became too much for Bilbo and he lurched in against Thorin, like a hobbit starved for a feast. Thorin’s back hit the door and then Bilbo jerked down hard on his cloak. Thorin bent and then Bilbo’s lips found his and it felt like the world exploded and Varda was scattering stars everywhere. Thorin’s hands slid down and cupped his arse and oh, that was even better and the thundering of his heart felt like it was too much to bear. He hopped up and Thorin pulled him up the rest of the way. Bilbo wrapped his legs around as best he could and rolled his hips up against Thorin.

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed his name when they broke off. “We should–”

“No.” 

Bilbo buried his hands in Thorin’s hair. Then he was kissing whatever he could of Thorin’s face, noses bumping. Whatever it was Thorin was about to say, Bilbo knew it would break the spell. He kissed Thorin once more and rolled his hips again before he wormed a hand down between them. Bilbo didn’t waste time trying to grope outside of Thorin’s clothes. His hand worked through layers of clothes, down to warm flesh covered in hair and hotter than a blaze. He followed the hair down and Thorin’s sharp inhale told him enough when he found hardness beneath his palm. He grinned against Thorin’s mouth and he felt Thorin jerk his hips upwards. 

“Bilbo.” That was all Thorin whispered, but it was wrecked and reverent. 

The thundering in his heart became too much, crashing through him and guiding him onwards. He wriggled free of Thorin and for a moment the dwarf was confused until Bilbo started on his belt. He undid it quick as you please and had Thorin’s laces halfway undone before Thorin’s hands settled on his to halt him. Or, rather, tried to halt him since Bilbo batted them away and pulled out his prize. 

His hand grasped Thorin’s length firmly, the heat coming off Thorin soaking into Bilbo. Thorin’s head rolled back against the door and Bilbo looked up at him. He stroked a few times, watching the pleasure flicker across Thorin’s face and the evidence slicked his touch along. 

“I would have you,” the words tumbled from Bilbo’s mouth. Thorin looked at him and Bilbo licked his lips. “Here and now.”

There was something that flashed in Thorin’s eyes, a flicker of greedy desire. But there was nothing of the drive that tinged his gold madness. This was pure want and need, all of Thorin’s own choice. Thorin slid down against the door and Bilbo was fumbling with his trousers like a lad eager for his first time. He only managed to get one leg free and his smalls halfway off before he clambered into Thorin’s lap. His hands were back in Thorin’s hair and those large hands settled on his hips and it felt as if it was searing down into Bilbo’s soul. 

“I am,” Thorin ran a hand down Bilbo’s leg, pushing the pants and smalls down further. “At your service, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Oh thank the stars.” Bilbo breathed as Thorin’s hands went back to his arse, squeezing with a tight grip.

A laugh huffed out of Thorin as Bilbo kissed him once more. With a smile, Bilbo reached down and that laugh changed into a groan. One of Thorin’s hands trailed down over his hip and then it too was grasping at Bilbo’s length, stroke firm and sure as fingers slipped between his arse cheeks, pressing and rubbing. Bilbo gasped out, voice squeaking a bit as his hand on Thorin stilled. He didn’t know if he should move forwards or backwards. 

“We will have to stop,” Thorin murmured against his mouth. “We have no slick.”

Never in his life had Bilbo ever reached for something so fast. The small butter crock was still there and he nearly unseated himself from Thorin’s lap to reach it with his clean hand. Though, if Thorin’s hands didn’t hold on to his hips, he probably would have sprawled out across the floor in order to get it. He settled himself back down, taking the lid off and then pressing it into Thorin’s hands before he reached up, carding his fingers through Thorin’s beard.

“As you were.” Bilbo ran his fingertips over Thorin’s lips. 

Thorin’s eyes darkened as he nipped at Bilbo’s fingers. Bilbo was taking deep breaths to steady himself as he watched Thorin scoop out some of the butter. It was smeared across those blunt fingers and a tiny part of him despaired at the use the butter was being put to. That all vanished a moment later when Thorin’s slick fingers were pressing back in and his hand moved along Bilbo’s length.

Bilbo rested his head against Thorin’s shoulder for a moment, moving his hips back and forth. To be perfectly honest, he still had that dilemma of whether to thrust up into Thorin’s hand or work himself back against Thorin’s fingers. His free hand fisted in Thorin’s hair, tugging slightly, while his other hand slipped down to Thorin’s length, fingers running just under the head. Thorin made a choked noise, his fingers pressing in more. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo murmured when he raised his head. He bit down softly on the lobe and Thorin’s hips stuttered up into his hand. “You hesitate when you should be surer,” he bore down on Thorin’s fingers and one pressed in deep to the point of nearly breaching. “Of what you would claim.”

A helpless sound came from Thorin now, and that finger was pressing in. It pressed and then it was sinking into Bilbo. His hole still fluttered around the finger and oh Valar, that, Bilbo wanted more of that. Thorin was breathing harshly, eyes squeezed shut, but his finger was moving steadily curling and then oh! Oh! It was like getting all his favourite desserts in one go. 

Thorin was nuzzling in against his neck, beard a raspy tickle against his skin that was soothed with a tongue and then scraped gently by teeth. It was too hard for Bilbo to think properly, let alone try and move any part of his body. Then another finger was pressing in. Bilbo’s hand tightened in Thorin’s hair, dragging a low growl from Thorin. Bilbo dragged Thorin’s head back up and kissed him fiercely, as if he could pour out the entire depth of the feeling inside of him. Thorin’s fingers moved a bit faster now before they pulled out completely.

The displeased sound Bilbo made shifted into approval when Thorin reached for the butter once more. Then Thorin’s fingers were back, a third one pressing in as well. It ached a bit as it pressed in, and Bilbo broke the kiss to gaze at Thorin.

His face was flushed, lips swollen and looking as red as summer cherries. His eyes were fixed right on Bilbo, dark blue with desire, intent and just a hint of bemusement. It was silly really how Bilbo felt his heart trip in his chest, starting up that thundering roar once more. 

“Now.” Bilbo said, the word feeling like a lifeline.

“Now?” Thorin rasped out.

“Now,” Bilbo leaned in closer as he stroke Thorin a few times. “I would have you sink so deep into me, so completely that we both never forget this night,” Thorin’s hand was already fumbling at the butter. “Claim me as I would claim you and,” Bilbo paused as Thorin’s slick fingers dragged over his hole. “Nothing will ever break it.”

Thorin’s length was pressing against his hole and Bilbo breathed deep as he bore down. It eased in slowly and Bilbo didn’t rush. He savoured it like a fine meal with the perfect wine. Thorin’s jaw was gritted and his hands were firm on Bilbo’s hips. There was the drag of skin on skin and after all those dark, dream-filled nights on the journey to Erebor, it was it was everything Bilbo had hoped it would be.

“Nothing,” Thorin breathed, his gaze still fixed on Bilbo. When he whispered, “Ever” it was fierce and savage, as if daring fate itself to contradict their vow.

“Nothing ever.” Bilbo’s own voice sounded the same, low and fierce and entirely not like the sensible Baggins he had once been.

Then he was leaning forward quickly, kissing Thorin once more. One of Thorin’s hands threaded through Bilbo’s curls before cupping his head. Then Thorin tilted his head to deepen the kiss and it was all Bilbo could do to hang on. It seemed like Thorin was intent on stealing the very breath from his body. Bilbo ground his hips down and Thorin thrust up as much as he could. The fierce kisses and slow movement kept up until Thorin shifted downwards a bit. When Bilbo moved down, Thorin’s hips snapped up and oh, oh! It was like dessert, like the best fireworks on midsummer’s eve. He mewled and ground down harder. Thorin’s grasp tightened as he drove upwards and Bilbo clung to him, trying to respond as best he could. But then one of Thorin’s hands settled on his length, stroking a few times.

Bilbo barely managed to garble out, “The cockerel’s crowing!” before he became undone. 

This feeling coursing through him as he shuddered against Thorin, this was mountains moving, this was incineration by dragonfire. Something that shook him down to rubble and consumed him entirely, leaving him a quaking heap in its wake. 

Thorin’s hands had an iron grip on Bilbo’s hips and his whole body had tensed up. Then Bilbo felt it, the pulsing of warmth inside him and he kissed Thorin’s face, tensing around Thorin and working him through the last of his peak. 

As Thorin’s grip relaxed, Bilbo became aware of a few things. His knees hurt atrociously, Thorin was still clothed – he still had his cloak on for goodness sake – and the pack beside them was sitting in a puddle of melted snow and that stew probably needed some attention now. But even as he sat up properly and looked at Thorin, he found he didn’t care about any of that. 

Thorin was watching him as well too and he placed his hand over Bilbo’s heart. “Ghivashel. Âzyungel.”

Some part of Bilbo felt the need to reach out and touch Thorin. He grasped Thorin’s hand in his, placing his other hand over Thorin’s heart. 

“I love you.”

The smile that spread over Thorin face was slow and sweet, like sun-warmed honeycomb. “And I love you, kurdeluh,” Bilbo had no idea what it meant and was about to ask when Thorin raised an eyebrow. “A crowing cockerel?”

“What?” Bilbo was confused for a moment before he recalled his words and a flush crept over his face. Oh right, that nonsense had spilled from his mouth. “Just some colourful languge.”

Both eyebrows were raised now and Thorin looked like he was fighting a laugh. “A noisy rooster?”

Bilbo huffed, but Thorin leaned in kissing softly at his temple. Placated, he said, “I’ve got stew on and we should put your things away and see to a bath. For the both of us.”

Bilbo heard his knees groan and pop as he stood back up. He felt right foolish stumbling around trying to get back in his pants like a tween. Thorin quickly tucked himself away and did up his laces and belt. The cloak was hung up and the pack bustled away before Bilbo tidied up the puddle at the front door and saw to the stew.

He couldn’t say precisely at what point he wound up in the tub with Thorin. It was probably when Thorin came into the kitchen inquiring where to place his laundry. Their clothes were left in a heap on the floor and they both barely managed to fit in the tub. Bilbo was snuggled in Thorin’s arms, the water was warm and soothing his aches. It was easy to push the question from his mind and focus on the immediate things. They changed into warm night clothes and settled in the living room with bowls of stew and the last of the wine. 

Something about this night demanded firelight and more space than the kitchen provided. Bilbo kept sneaking looks at Thorin as they ate. Hearth light really suited Thorin. Then again, so did candle light, sunlight… any sort of light really. And what drove a dwarf to travel from Erebor in the late fall? That had to have been when Thorin left because it was Yule now and it was such a long trip to make and…

The thought occurred to him, but he didn’t say it until they had scraped their bowls clean and had some wine in their bellies.

“Thorin,” Bilbo was thankful his voice stayed even. “Are you here for me?”

“I am,” Thorin paused for a moment. “If you will have me.”

“If I will…” Bilbo sputtered as his face burned bright red. “The cheek!”

Thorin laughed, rich and deep. “It was a much warmer welcome I received this time.”

“Yes well,” Bilbo began crisply. “You didn’t call me a grocer and walk about like you own the place.”

“And it was a grievous error on my part. I should have shown you more respect and courtesy in your own home.” Thorin’s expression turned somber. “But what I said is true. I am here for you Bilbo.”

“I see,” Bilbo was already thinking things over. “Well, we might be able to work things out for Bag End and be on the road by summer and –”

“No Bilbo,” Thorin interrupted. “I came here for you, to be with you.”

Bilbo just stared at Thorin for a few moments. “For how long?”

“For as long as you would have me. Until we’re old and grey, sitting on your front porch smoking pipes in the evening.”

And now Bilbo was staring at Thorin as it all sunk in. He felt an odd mix of elation and dread as he spoke it. “You abdicated?”

“My sister, Dís, rules now, until Fíli is ready,” Thorin said with a nod. “It was not lightly done. Dís suggested that I come to see you and we both return. But I knew it would do no good.”

Valar help him, his heart was pounding once more but he managed to say, “Why would it have been no good?”

“You love the Shire. And my heart had returned to the Shire. You left with it and I came to find it in the safest of hands, stolen from me.” Thorin gave a shy, awkward smile. “Though Dís has said we are to come visit any time at our pleasure.”

 

“But Thorin, Erebor –” Bilbo began.

“Was where I was born and raised, true. But you burgled me so thoroughly that I could only stay a year in Erebor without you. Any more than that was unbearable. I healed enough to travel, ensured Dís and Fíli were ready and then left.” Thorin was quiet for a moment and then, “I cannot fault you leaving when you did. I would have left sooner if I could have.”

“You confusticated… impossible dwarf,” Bilbo shuffled over to where Thorin was. He hugged him tight before kissing him. “Of course I’ll have you. For as long as you’ll have me. And maybe after elevensies and twice on Sunday.”

A flush crept over Thorin’s face as his arms slid around Bilbo, holding him in tight. “I quite like this forwardness you seem to have developed.”

“I picked it up when I was travelling with a company of dwarves. Changed in all sorts of ways. Would you like to know, my cockerel?”

Thorin sputtered now. “What? You are not calling me that!”

“You called me…” Bilbo tried to recall the word. 

“Kurdeluh. My heart.” Thorin elaborated.

Bilbo smiled now, cupping Thorin’s face. He leaned in and kissed him slowly. “And you are my beloved. You too are my heart and I would have followed you into Mordor itself.”

Thorin broke the kiss, resting their foreheads together. After a moment, he shook his head. “I am not worthy of you Bilbo. But I thank Mahal you love me as you do.”

All Bilbo did was make a tutting sound, hugging Thorin for a few moments. When he rose, he collected up the dishes. Thorin took the cue and set about banking the fire. Bilbo quickly washed up the dishes and made sure to dry them and put them away. When he peered down the hall, he found the master bedroom door open. He walked down and looked in to find Thorin slipping a bed warmer at the foot of the bed. Bilbo closed the door behind him and Thorin turned down the bed covers and slipped beneath them. 

Bilbo did the same, nestling in right against Thorin. One of his arms settled on Bilbo’s waist before curling over. A smile came to Bilbo’s face as he meshed his fingers with Thorin. Against the back of his neck, he felt a whiskery smile and Bilbo fell asleep thinking everything was finally right with his world again.


	2. Morning tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after and first breakfast is being sorted out. Or that might be second breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I porned some more. I lay this one squarely at eaivalefay and lilithiumword's feet, the lovely instigators that they are.

It was the clink of crockery from the deep in the house that woke Bilbo. He woke with a stretch, luxuriating in the warm bed and covers. The spot beside him was empty, but rumpled with the blankets pulled back up. He rolled over onto his back, snuggling into the warmth. Truly, Bilbo should get up but he was so content, he couldn’t be bothered. 

Thorin was here, off doing who knew what now. Really he should get up and go see what was happening. And get into a proper change of clothes. Lazing about in bed so late in the morning wasn’t right. A heavy tread along the hallway made him look at the door. Moments later, Thorin stepped in, a steaming mug in hand. Bilbo sat up a little bit as the scent reached him.

“You made tea?” he couldn’t help but sound surprised. 

“Breakfast too,” Thorin came to Bilbo’s side of the bed. “You were fast asleep. I had no wish to wake you.”

A smile came to Bilbo’s face. “You made me tea. And breakfast.”

“Indeed, I did.”

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Bilbo smiled even more, warming up to the topic. “You never did during the quest. Then again, I suppose you had other things to worry about.”

“I helped keep Kíli and Fíli fed for most of their youth. I daresay I can manage one hobbit and his seven meals,” Thorin held up the mug. “It will get cold.”

“That’ll probably be blistering hot for me. I remember Bombur pulling roast potatoes from the embers with his bare hands.” 

Bilbo watched as Thorin slid the mug onto the bedside table. Wisps of hair escaped from his simple ponytail and his nightshirt was rumpled, showing a dark sliver of chest hair. On an impulse, Bilbo sat up a hand curling around the back of Thorin’s neck. When he tugged gently, Thorin didn’t resist. In fact he smiled as he tilted his head. 

When their lips met, it was a gentle press that was split open by a soft gasp before they fused together. Thorin was warm and Bilbo’s other hand came up, seeking skin. He had to hitch up Thorin’s nightshirt to find his prize and he sighed in delight when he did. Thorin was so warm and those lovely, large hands were burrowing under the covers and Bilbo’s own nightshirt to find his hips and squeeze gently. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin began. “We should eat breakfast.”

“We should eat it in bed. Breakfast in bed is an excellent idea.” Bilbo found himself with no inclination to go near the kitchen right now.

A glint came to Thorin’s eyes and Bilbo barely had a moment to sort it out before Thorin pulled the covers back. Bilbo yelped a bit at the chill air, but Thorin was so warm it barely mattered. Also because Thorin was nuzzling at his belly, open-mouthed kisses gusting hot breaths across his skin. Bilbo squirmed as his cock started to rouse. 

“Weren’t we… going to eat,” Bilbo felt like he was struggling now. Thorin was moving on lower. Bilbo was sure that Thorin could feel his interest now. “Breakfast.”

“I intend to.”

That was the last thing he said before hiking up Bilbo’s shirt and then pressing kisses against Bilbo’s hip. The rasp and tickle of beard against his skin was nice and left him squirming further in Thorin’s hands. Then it was against his cock, along with warm moist breath and Bilbo felt as if his head was spinning and oh!

Gracious, that wail had come from him. Thorin had placed his mouth on Bilbo’s cock and that sound just tore itself from his throat. And now Thorin was swallowing down his cock and all Bilbo felt was heat and damp and oh what in Valar’s name was Thorin doing with his tongue because he really should never stop doing it, whatever it was. 

“This is delightful,” Bilbo gasped out, transfixed by the sight of Thorin’s head bobbing up and down. “So skilled at milking, do… oh!”

Thorin had snorted, inhaling sharply, and oh heavens, Bilbo couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting up. His fingers tangled in Thorin’s locks, grabbing hold. Thorin gave a rumble and Bilbo swore he felt it down to his bones. His toes curled and he could feel himself right on the edge. Then Thorin looked up at him, head bobbing once more. Blue eyes gazed up at him through dark lashes and locks and Bilbo was done for. 

“Thorin, Thorin, Thorin,” Bilbo chanted as he closed his eyes. Thorin’s arm was across his waist, stopping him from thrusting up. Not that it stopped Bilbo from trying, so he squirmed and whimpered as he rode out his orgasm, gasping out, “You’re better than a milkmaid.”

There was an obscene sounding pop and Thorin’s breath was harsh in the quiet bedroom. Bilbo opened his eyes and saw Thorin’s throat bobbing as he swallowed. There was a string of Bilbo’s seed on his beard and honestly Bilbo didn’t know how he could feel like a tween again, ready for another round. But there was a smile on Thorin’s face with a twinkle in his eye and Bilbo was thinking they didn’t really need to leave the bed today when Thorin spoke. 

“Bilbo, I feel I should ask: were you ever a farm boy?” Thorin wiped at his beard with a corner of his night shirt.

“Never,” Bilbo stretched, feeling far too content and indulgent now. “Just had a peek through some fields as a lad for a snack here and there.”

“Ah,” Thorin stripped off the shirt. “That doesn’t really explain it.”

Bilbo stared at Thorin, the dark chest hair thick at the top and thinning out a bit as it reached his hips and truly, did Thorin even need to bother with smalls? He grasped the edge of them, tugging insistently. Thorin dropped the nightshirt on the floor and slid in beside Bilbo, pulling the covers back up. Once Bilbo was snuggled back in Thorin’s arms, he spoke.

“Doesn’t explain what?”

There was a moment of silence and then, “There was the cockerel thing last night. And now you’re comparing me to a milkmaid?”

Bilbo didn’t say anything for a moment before he opted to hide his face against Thorin’s chest. Drat his tongue, why was he saying such ridiculous things when Thorin laid hands on him. Well, hands and mouth to be more accurate.

“Have you been with many milkmaids?” Thorin continued. “Or are you just complimenting my skill in a very odd fashion?”

“Can we just pretend that I don’t say such nonsense?” Bilbo mumbled. 

“If you wish,” Thorin was quiet for a moment. “Though, if you ever call me a grocer, don’t be surprised if I offer you nuts.”

Right, Bilbo just shook his head. “On second thought, I’ll go get breakfast. We really should eat something.”

Thorin chuckled, pulling back enough to press a kiss against Bilbo’s forehead. “I don’t mind what you say. I hear the pleasure in your voice and that pleases me.”

“Oh, well then,” Bilbo could feel his face flush, but he couldn’t stop the pleased smile from coming to his face. “Shall we go eat and get you all properly settled in then?”

“So you do wish to leave the bed after all?” Thorin asked.

Bilbo tried very hard to not laugh when he hit Thorin with the pillow. Especially since Thorin himself was laughing too. They dressed and made their way to the kitchen, Bilbo sipping on the mug of tea Thorin had brought for him. A full fry up was arranged on the table, plates ready and tea things out. Bilbo didn’t fuss when Thorin urged him to sit down before setting the kettle up and filling up Bilbo’s plate.

“First breakfast, right?” Thorin asked as he slid some fried mushrooms on Bilbo’s plate.

“More like second by now probably,” Bilbo watched as Thorin turned to the whistling kettle. He grasped the handle and poured the hot water into the teapot. “This looks scrumptious.”

“And probably cold.” Thorin looked at him as he sat down now. “Though I don’t mind so much.”

That flush was back but Bilbo smiled. “Neither do I.”


End file.
